Cold Comfort
by milo54
Summary: Spuffy Ficlet. My take on the events that took place at the end of Fool for Love. Including Buffy telling Spike that her mother is sick which is never shown on the show, but which he refers to in a later episode when speaking to Riley.


Author's Note: This is my first complete fanfiction in the Buffy Fandom. So please be gentle, I really hope that its good, its been so long since Ive written anything like this.

I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of the characters in this fanfic, unfortunately.

My take on the thoughts of Buffy and Spike while they sat on the porch at the end of Fool For Love.( with a little homage to the gimmick of the episode thrown in at the end ;D) This is one of my favorite Spuffy moments in the entire Series, especially right before the black out when they both take a deep breath and sigh at the same time. The POV switches, it repeats itself so that I can show how they both feel.

At this point this is a one-off but my beta is not so gently nudging me for more. If I do write any companion fics I probably won't be altering the plot of buffy at all.

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**Cold Comfort by Milo54**

Spike's jaw clenched and he smirked ruthlessly, heavy booted strides steering him in the direction of Revello drive. He tried to slightly diminish his swagger, this was a business call after all. There was plenty of time for swagger once the little blond bint was in deadsville. He was going to be rid of her once and for all; only then could he go on with his unlife.

He was bad to the bone, and he was going to prove it. In no way was he going to let her and her mystery van bunch make him soft, make him weak. So he had a chip, there was plenty of evil to be done that didn't require direct violence.

Once she was below the ground he would be gone, no more reason to linger here in Sunnyhell. Maybe he would pay a visit back to the jolly 'ole he mused smirking to himself before plastering his mask of determination back on.

When she was dead this ruse would be over, it had to be over; he would be eaten alive by the longing if he didn't nip this in the bud right here and right now. He refused to let her get away with trampling on him like those who had gone before.

------

Buffy quietly shut the back door and let out the breath she had been holding so long that it burned in her chest. She shivered slightly with the drop in temperature and rubbed her arms vigorously, her sweater did little to fend off the cold night air.

Buffy wrapped her arms around herself and sat on the step at the edge of the deck, her legs not feeling like they would remain under her for much longer. Her stomach roiled and she curled in on herself, gripping her arms tightly

She was so physically strong, she could take on a pack of vampires with ease and had saved the world countless times but this new enemy was one that she couldn't do anything about. Normal human illness was just something she was totally unequipped to deal with, cancer was something that happened on the periphery, to someone else's family, it was a statistic, it didnt come into her house and make itself at home inside her mothers head. No amount of research and jelly doughnuts could give her the insight on how to beat it, it was out of her hands, she had to watch this time and it made her feel so helpless, useless, weak.

**Weak**. She put a hand to her stomach. The wound would be healed in just a few days, thanks to slayer healing; but Buffy had had a taste of mortality. Her mother's trip to the hospital tonight was just another reminder of how fragile life was.

Swallowing back a sob she wiped the burgeoning tears from her face and pushed her hair out of her eyes. Curling up into a fetal position she imagined she could just block out the world around her. She wanted to be small again, cozied in between her mom and dad like she used to when she had just woken from a nightmare. She wanted this desperately to be a nightmare, but no matter how hard she tried she just couldn't wake up. Her breath came in little hitches and she gave over to the tears sobbing into her lap, letting the salty rivulets run in torrents down her cheeks.

------

"No turning back now Spike, time t'put a third scratch on th' score card." He whispered to himself to dispel any doubts he had as he stalked toward the path running behind the Summers home. He peeked though the hedge silently, holding an unneeded breath.

She was sitting right there, this would be easy after all, She was just sitting there, not even paying attention, any nasty could pop up and tear out that pretty little throat. Spike's lips curled unto a vicious sneer as he breached the hedge and strode purposefully toward her, stopping just a few steps away.

She hadn't even noticed his approach, anger swirled in his belly. Righteous bitch! Can't even feel her doom breathing down her neck. A renewed fervor washed over him and he cocked the shotgun, shattering the silence in the yard and buffy's head shot up.

He faltered. All the anger he had been nurturing during his traverse to the Summers home abandoning him in an instant leaving him feeling cold and empty. She was crying. Why was she crying? Who hurt her? A protective urge niggled in the back of his head.

She wasn't moving, just looking up at him with shining Hazel eyes and glistening cheeks and his stomach turned as he remembered he had come here to kill her, this gorgeous creature. This crumbling pillar of feminine strength. His undead heart broke upon seeing her pain.

She looked up at him, seemingly shocked that he was there, her breathtaking features quickly twisted into a feeble attempt at her usual steely glare, but she looked more like she had a frog in her mouth.

------

She sat there staring dumbly at him. He was holding a gun. How had she not noticed him until he was standing five feet in front of her? If he had come to kill her what was he waiting for? He had his moment, for all his talk he wasn't taking his chance to 'slip in' as he had put it. She struggles to gain some composure, but knows her glare must not seem very threatening.

" What do you want now?" She manages to choke out, her voice thick with tears.

"What's wrong?" He asked, he sounded as though he was actually being sincere, and her momentary resolve crumbles. The gun moved to hang at his side and he tilted his head at her, something like concern in his eyes. Shame washed over her and she could no longer look at him. Here was her arch nemesis privy to her deepest moment of weakness. She couldn't summon any witty remark, the lump in her throat so thick she couldn't dream of uttering more than a few words. So she sat there hoping he would forget seeing her tears and either kill her or leave.

------

"I don't want to talk about it." She murmers and turns her head away from him as if trying to hide her tears. Against his better judgment words forced their way from his throat.

"Is there something I can do?"

He longed to lunge forward, to sweep her into his arms and kiss every tear from her face, but her earlier rejection kept his feet rooted to the spot.

Instead he slowly approached and took a seat next to her on the step abandoning the gun beside him,watching her intently, his chest throbbing and his mouth dry.

He tentatively placed his hand on her shoulder. He didn't know exactly what to do, giving comfort wasn't something he'd had much experience with in the past century or so. He withdrew his hand slowly, unsure whether or not he had crossed a line. Unable to tear his gaze from her he adjusted his position and rested his elbows on his knees, opting not to say anything else since she didn't seem interested in talking.

He would sit there in silence as long as she would allow him to.

----

She felt his hand on her shoulder, the barely there touch, clumsy and unpracticed. She warmed a little at his shy attempt to comfort her and the strained silence was suddenly comfortable.

He removed his hand and quietly adjusted his coat. She felt colder with it's removal despite the fact that the hand was as cold as the night air around them. She stared straight ahead of her, and crossed her arms leaning on her knees, appreciating that he had stopped asking her questions.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

------

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Turning to look out at the back yard, Spike was content to enjoy a companionable silence with the slayer, the fact that she wasn't protesting sparked a small hope within him that his presence wasn't entirely detestable to her.

They sat there for what seemed like an eternity, it was probably only an hour or so. She had stopped crying, though her despair still hung in the air as if it were tangible, she sighed and out of the corner of his eye he saw her give a little shiver, and his heart constricted at the thought that she may be getting ready to go back inside. He waited a few more minutes and she didn't seem to be going anywhere, but he could see that the cold air was getting to her, Her hands were tucked close to her body and her breath quavered ever so slightly, as if she were trying not to let her teeth chatter.

" It'sa bit chilly. Sure you shouldn't be inside, luv?" He took a pack of smokes out of his coat pocket and fidgeted with them, wondering if she would mind him lighting up.

"Mom's sick." She blurted out. He was taken aback for a moment, wondering where this had come from. He looked over at her and saw her jaw trembling with an effort to not cry again. Her shoulders were slumped in defeat. Spike finally had some insight into her despair.

------

After he had sat there for so long with her she had had a chance to calm down. Sitting quietly with him comforted her in a way that she was strangely alright with, she knew any of her friends would bombard her with questions, in this silence she could deal with her pain on her own terms, no obligations.

She was stirred from her thoughts when he moved to take out his cigarettes and posed his question. The thought of going inside, was the last thing that appealed to her at that moment, even though it was Spike, she needed this quiet companionship right now. She knew that if she went inside she would just go to her room and lay there unable to sleep. But the last thing she was going to do was tell Spike that she needed him there.

" Mom's Sick."

------

Spike searched for something to say, something to do to help her fight back the tears but only managed to come up with...

" s'it bad?"

He knew her answer even as he asked the question, her shoulders hitched and she squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking from the corners as she nodded jerkily. He cursed himself for bringing on this new bout of tears.

He watched as she curled up on herself once more and sobbed brokenly into her hand, her body shaking with grief and cold. Spike felt his own eyes water and his throat constrict with self-loathing.

Desperate to do something, anything to remedy what he had done wrong he swiftly shrugged out of his coat and threw it over her shoulders. It wouldn't already be warm, but it would keep her from getting any colder. He smoothed the coat across her shoulders and let his hand linger in the middle of her back, though the rest of his body screamed to wrap her in a fierce embrace.

------

Buffy looked over at him through the curtain of hair that had fallen across her face as she felt his coat descend around her. She was oddly touched by the gesture. She felt instantly a bit better as her body heat diffused into the coat and warmed her up just a touch.

"Not like I really need it." He said in a lighter tone. She saw the guilt written plain on his face.

"I guess not Chilly Willy" she whispered and saw the corner of his mouth twitch in a ghost of a smirk. She felt like crap, but that wasn't his fault.

------

"Heyyy! No self respecting vamp would wear that bloody awful hat." he paused "N' don't call me Willy." Spike chided, his glaring eyes betraying his mirth. She was punning again; this had to be a good sign.

He looked down at his boots for a long while, his hand making tiny circles on her back, delighting in how she swayed ever so lightly along with his ministrations. When he looked back up again she was still staring at him, her tears seemed to have slowed and her shaking had ebbed considerably.

" Why are you here, Spike" She said softly as he made eye contact with her. He was trapped in her gaze, to be able to kiss her right now, just to feel her lips for an instant. He was mesmerized.

------

"Buffy." He was staring right into her eyes and she was startled by the deep shade of blue they were. He said nothing else in response to her question. His eyes boring into hers with an intensity that made her feel a little uncomfortable. His hand had stilled on her back and she held her breath.

When he moved again it was jarring, his hand was gone from her back and running through his hair so quickly it was as if he had been burned. His eyes flicked out into the yard and he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands on the back of his neck. He looked almost... shy. The idea seemed hilarious to Buffy.

"Came t'kill you Slayer." He said one hand moving to the shotgun to his left. " I'll take a rain-check this time though, on account o'yer Mum an' all." The pomp came back into his voice and he stood. His absence at her side made her feel colder.

He picked up the gun and slung it over his shoulder, bent over to pick up his discarded cigarettes, and stuck one behind his ear all in the same motion

" Wouldn't be much of a fight with the chip anyway." He said gesturing at his temple with his right hand. She noticed that he was purposely avoiding looking at her, she could practically see the walls going up behind his eyes. "Slayers ain't meant t'be killed with guns anyhow."

Buffy nodded slightly and shrugged out of Spike's duster, it was evident he was getting ready to leave. She was torn over whether or not she wanted him to go, she was half relieved that he had slipped back into his snarky swaggering posture. Gentle quiet Spike was unnerving, for the first time she had almost forgotten he was a vampire. The last time she had let her self make mistake had resulted in one of the biggest regrets of her life.

She stood and offered up the coat to him silently, but he held up his hand.

"Nah, I'll pop by an' get it tomorrow, you can stay on the porch for a while longer." He shrugged, the Gun poised over her shoulders with his wrists resting on it, hands dangling scarecrow style.

"S'gettin' nigh on sunrise and 've got blood t'nick 'for I 'ead back to th' Crypt." He justified, even though she hadn't asked him why he was leaving. He turned then, walking to the hedge he took the gun in his left hand and with his right he plucked the cigarette from his ear, stuck it in his mouth and lit it with his palmed Zippo.

"Yer Mum'll be fine, don' worry. You Summers women're strong." and with that he was gone, leaving a trail of smoke and a bewildered slayer who sat there for several more moments before she balled up the duster, hugged it to her chest for a moment and then headed toward the back door. She looked over her shoulder as she opened the door and sighed shaking her head before entering the house and heading upstairs to collapse into bed.

------

Spike's hands shook, he lit another cigarette as he stalked through Restfield cemetery double time, his breath came in quick gasps. He had to get away from there. He had been so ready to end this obsession. Being around her clouded everything. He had waded in to fix it, to save himself from certain doom and found himself in way over his head and drowning in the Slayer.

" RRRAAAAGH!" He roared as he kicked a headstone and it cracked into three pieces. He threw the shotgun down onto the grass and sat down on a near by grave.

He'd almost kissed her. Again! He berated himself. " I **must **have a dust wish" he muttered to himself, sucking fiercely on his cigarette.

He closed his eyes and scrubbed his free hand across his face as if it would erase her image from his mind. He found himself filled with dread yet again that night. Something was wrong with him, it was all so **wrong **and shameful and... and...

He threw his head back and groaned loudly at the sky, tossing his half finished cigarette away into the dewy grass, a few stray tears escaped his dark lashes, tracking down the sharp planes of his cheeks. He was hopeless.

------

_London: 1880_

"_**Hopeless**_"_Angelus growled stalking circles around him. "Dru, couldn't you have picked something with a little more flair?" William trembled in an effort to not shrink back from the Hulking vampire who was appraising him like livestock._

" _But e's so shiny." Drusilla slurred tilting her head, she gazed blankly off into the space somewhere to the left of William's head. " So fill'd with 'ope an' love. It twitters away in my 'ead, like a lil' birdie." She swayed back and forth along with the lilting of her speech, placing her hands on her cheeks and tilting her head to the side before adding " An' I can keep 'im, he won't die like all the rest..."_

_Angelus Rolled his eyes and grabbed William's chin, wrenching his head back violently " Now you __listen here __**Willy--**_"

" _I beg your pardon Mr... Angelus bu--" William was silenced as the bigger vampire backhanded him across the mouth, and he fell to the floor._

_William scrambled back up and away from the advancing hulk, raising his chin in an act of defiance he was sure would warrant another blow._

"_Ye'll never be the kind of demon Dru can be proud to call her Childe. Ye'll never be anything more than a weak, shameful, whelp. I've never seen a vampire that was so __**human**__." Angelus spat the word out like it was bile. He growled at the fledgling and brought his knee up with blinding force into the juncture of William's thighs and he wailed, slumping to the floor feebly as Angelus Stalked away, sweeping up Drusilla and throwing her over his shoulder along the way._

_William was left curled up on the floor cursing himself, as tears spilled down the sharp plane of his face._

_**End**_

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**Any feedback is much appreciated**** 3**


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